69 x 11  A Collection
by DelMarch
Summary: A collection of short stories, featuring mostly Shuuhei and Yumichika. Rated K to T. Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, crack... Friendship or romance, depending on the story. Each fic comes with its own header.
1. Stupid, Quiet Pride

**AN:**

All of these fics have already been posted on my LiveJournal as I wrote them, but it occurred to me that I could also post them here. Be aware, however, that only my non-explicit fics get posted here; if you want to have access to all my fics including the MA ones, then you need to go to my LJ.

xXx

**Title**: Stupid, Quiet Pride  
**Author**: Del March  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genres**: Hurt/Comfort, budding friendship  
**This story contains**: a brief description of an infected wound  
**Characters**: Hisagi Shuuhei, Ayasegawa Yumichika  
Word count: 1183

**Summary**: Yumichika is being an idiot again and Shuuhei helps quietly.

**A/N**: This was written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo challenge on LJ. The prompt was "infected wounds/septicemia".

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach nor its characters which all belong to Kubo Tite, and I am making no money from writing this fic.

**Stupid, Quiet Pride**

There was no need to look: the increase in sound volume was enough to signal the return of the scouting squads. The Eleventh Division's thugs were not the quiet type in the best of circumstances, and this opportunity to go tearing through the ruins of Las Noches as they cleared and secured room after room for the scientific and investigative squads only made them happier and thus louder.

"Three more rooms ready for inspection, Hisagi-fukutaichou."

Shuuhei frowned as he noticed the strain in Ayasegawa's voice, as well as the way the orange-cuffed hand shook ever so slightly as the fifth seat set an expanded map down on the corner of Shuuhei's borrowed desk. Pulling his gaze away from the papers he had found inside said desk, he took a good look at the other officer, who was slowly making his way back to his own men. The overly stiff back, the tremors which ran down his arms with every step, and the subtly uneven fluctuations to his reiatsu pattern confirmed Shuuhei's suspicions that something was off.

"Ayasegawa, one moment please." The lack of any sign of annoyance on the usually haughty face as the fifth seat slowly turned around was another unmistakable sign that he was not in his normal state. There was only wariness and tiredness in the purple eyes - and was that a touch of fever on the pale cheeks? "Follow me, please," ordered Shuuhei as he grabbed his pack and led the other man to a remote corner of the room, hidden behind a pile of debris.

"All right," he whispered once they were both safely out of sight, "what's going on?"

The show of pretense that Ayasegawa tried to put on was so pitiful that the fifth seat would probably have been disgusted with himself if he had been able to see it. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

Shuuhei decided to cut straight to what he suspected to be the heart of the matter. "Where are you hurt?"

"What makes you think-"

"Yumichika," Shuuhei called softly. The use of his first name silenced the other man. Shuuhei continued gently, "It's me. You can trust me, you know that." Ayasegawa blinked rapidly and looked away; he could not deny that simple truth. "So stop playing games and tell me what's going on, please."

The fifth seat stared him in the eyes for a moment before sighing in defeat and going to work on his hakama ties. Soon he had undone his shihakushou and he was wincing as he tried to slid the kosode and shitagi off his shoulders. Carefully, Shuuhei grabbed the garments and pulled them down. His breath caught when by so doing he unveiled an enormous bruise covering more than half the narrow back, with a very nasty-looking slash running from the left shoulder to right below the ribs. The sides were a raw red, large and inflamed, while a yellow pus with a greenish tinge and a pungent stench to it was seeping from the cut.

"When did you do that?" Shuuhei's own voice was shaking but his hands were sure enough as he started fishing for his emergency kit in his pack.

"Two days ago." Now that he had dropped the pretense, Ayasegawa looked and sounded absolutely exhausted. Shuuhei bit back the terse scolding he would have given to any one of his men who would act in such a stupid way; Ayasegawa was an Eleventh Divisioner, as Shuuhei knew perfectly well. He most probably had not wanted to look weak in front of his much bigger men, or to take the risk of delaying the investigation by asking to be sent back to base. And of course, he had obviously not had any opportunity to use his healing shikai. So instead of taking his frustration out on the hurt man, Shuuhei addressed a brief but virulent rant to whoever had decided that the scouting squads did not need on-site medical backup - and then he added a prayer of thanks for whichever spirit had inspired him to take that two-day crash course in emergency medicine that Unohana-taichou had offered in the wake of the Aizen Battle disaster.

"All right, look," Shuuhei explained as he carefully inspected the wound from all sides, "you know I'm no healer, but I do know the very basics. I can clean this up, but let's be clear." Shuuhei allowed his voice to grow sterner. "Whatever I can do will only be temporary. Once I'm done, I will gather some papers I'd like to send back to base, and I'll have you and a couple of your men take them there." Ayasegawa frowned, bit his lip and looked away. Shuuhei insisted, "These are important papers, I can't entrust them to anybody else, do you understand?" This time, Ayasegawa caught on, as his soft gasp and the wide-eyed way he stared at Shuuhei confirmed. "Good," Shuuhei finished - and then, as though it were nothing more than an after-thought, he added in a very off-hand manner, "Oh, and while you're there, you can get a real healer to take a look at this, why don't you?"

The small, hesitant, but genuine smile he received was all the thanks Shuuhei needed. Smiling back, he moved behind his patient and warned him, "You might want to grab something to bite on, because this is going to hurt." He waited until Ayasegawa had firmly lodged the hilt of his zanpakutou between his teeth, and then quickly went to work, using the disinfecting lotions from his pack to clean the wound, and then the healing kidou techniques to close it. Many times did he feel and see the muscles in the narrow back under his fingers clench and shake, and he could hear his patient's breathing grow frantic and harsh, but never did Ayasegawa pull away, let a single moan out or allow his reiatsu to flare out. Shuuhei smiled to himself as he applied a layer of protective bandages over the hurt back and shoulder; the fifth seat had his many faults, but one thing he could not be accused of being was a coward.

Eventually Shuuhei was done and he was helping a trembling Ayasegawa slip his uniform back on. And then, giving in to some weird instinct he did not care to investigate, he wrapped his arms around his patient and pulled him close. Predictably enough, the fifth seat first gasped and went rigid in shock - before silently relenting. Without a word, he shuffled closer until they were flush against each other, laid his head on Shuuhei's shoulder and snaked his arms around Shuuhei's waist. Gradually, as Shuuhei softly stroked his hair, his breathing slowed down and his body stopped shivering; Shuuhei could almost feel the tension ebbing away from him even as his reiatsu regained a much more normal pattern.

When he pulled away, there was a new sparkle in his large, tired eyes, and a very shy smile on his lips. "Thank you... Shuuhei." Then a determined frown creased his brow as he asked, "So, about those important papers you mentioned...?"

xx End xx


	2. Down In The Sewers

**Title**: Down In The Sewers  
**Rating**: T  
**Genres**: Angst, Hurt/Comfort  
**This story contains**: references to child prostitution  
**Characters**: Hisagi Shuuhei, Ayasegawa Yumichika  
Word count: 1202

**Summary**: There's so little Shuuhei can do, but he can't stop doing it, even if the futility of it all kills him inside.

**A/N**: This was written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo challenge on LJ. The prompt was "rent boys/girls".

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach nor its characters which all belong to Kubo Tite, and I am making no money from writing this fic. 

**Down In The Sewers**

Shuuhei's heart was heavy as he left the building in the middle of the night; it always was on these evenings. He did as much as he could, and yet it amounted to so little in the end. He was only one man - one weak, powerless man; how could he fight against an entire system? He was no noble to have the ear of the Council 46. He was not even a captain who could petition the help of the Gotei 13. He was just a former Rukongai street rat trying to prevent other, younger rats, from drowning in the sea of despair which had nearly swallowed him once.

He could not even remove them from their place; all he could do was offer them the illusion of a better life once every few weeks. Sometimes he wondered, when the immensity of the situation overwhelmed him in the middle of the night, whether he was not actually making their life harder by letting them glimpse the light and then letting it be snatched away from them again so quickly. Maybe it would be easier for them if they could resign themselves to that life?

But no! No, he could not do that, and so he kept coming here, week after week, with his meager offerings, for just an hour or two. He could never afford more, but they said it was better than nothing, and he desperately needed to believe it - especially when he did not leave the place fast enough, and got to meet the next person to visit them. At least, he had given them a time of respite, right?

"I'm disappointed." The sharp tenor voice was dripping with venom and Shuuhei's hand reflexively flew to Kazeshini's hilt as he turned around to face his unexpected visitor. He had not felt as much as a flicker of reiatsu and this unsettled him almost more than the contempt on Ayasegawa's face as the fifth seat stepped into the moonlight.

"What do you want?" Shuuhei was not up to mind games - not tonight, definitely not tonight. He desperately needed to be alone with his roiling emotions, with his pain and his anguish - with his weakness, something that Ayasegawa did not understand.

Ayasegawa sneered. "I wanted to know how you could always be broke, even with a lieutenant's pay. I must admit I did not expect this" - he vaguely indicated the street around them with his hand - "from you."

Shuuhei frowned. "It's not what you think."

Ayasegawa's tone turned harsh as he spat, "Ha! You enter a house, come back out with two rent kids, one on each arm, and take them to an inn for a couple of hours. What else is it supposed to be, except precisely what it looks like?"

Shuuhei scowled as a terrible, agonising anger bubbled deep inside his chest. "How is this any of your business, Ayasegawa-goseki?" Even if the idiot were right, Shuuhei would still - unfortunately - not be breaking any rule or law, so why did the fifth seat even care?

"It's not." Ayasegawa was back to his stand-offish self as he explained calmly, "I just can't believe I ever thought of you as a good guy. You disgust me." He turned around and was about to take off in a flash of shunpo when Shuuhei grabbed him by the arm.

"I told you: it's not what you think." Shuuhei kept his voice low and steady, though he felt like screaming inside. This was beyond unfair, and the thought of being mistaken for one of _them_ was tearing his soul apart.

"All right!" Ayasegawa was lashing out again. He jerked his arm free and then fixed Shuuhei with a glare which could have melted metal. "Then by all means, Hisagi-fukutaichou, do tell me what you do with rent kids, in a hotel room, late at night." His voice was full of anger and his reiatsu was rippling with animosity, and yet Shuuhei could have sworn that he could also see something begging him from deep within the large purple eyes - pleading with him to prove him wrong, to clear that awful new impression Ayasegawa had of Shuuhei.

Shuuhei could do no more than whisper as he explained, "I feed them a good meal, and then we play cards and we talk." His heart fell as a stunned disbelief replaced the wrath on the other man's face. His voice shook as he forced himself to add, "Sometimes I give them candy, or new clothes", and then it trailed away as he finished, "and they take turn too, so it's not always the same ones..." He had lost, he knew it; Ayasegawa was still too shocked to react, but any time now he would burst into incredulous laughter, and Shuuhei realised he did not want to see that - he could not see that. This time, he was the one who turned around and prepared to flee, with an awful, bitter taste in his mouth.

"You beg for Oomaeda's scraps so you can feed rent kids?" Ayasegawa's frighteningly flat voice stopped Shuuhei long enough for him to shrug.

"Yeah. Stupid, I know."

"... Why?"

Shuuhei turned back to face the other man. How could he explain? For what felt like an eternity, he stared into the large purple eyes. How could he find the words to explain himself to this man? How did one share such a deeply hidden pain? He had never _talked_ about it; he had only ever acted on it. "I..." _I was one of them._ He could not say it; he stopped, and tried again. "They..." _They need to know there is hope for a better life, even for them._ No, this would not come either. Nothing would come, and he was left to stare helplessly at Ayasegawa, who was staring back with a strange expression on his face.

"Confronting the ghostly nightmares of the past head on..." Shuuhei staggered as though the new softness in Ayasegawa's voice had punched him in the guts. His vision blurred as a small, sad smile appeared on the other man's lips. "But only when it can benefit others, as always." He felt tears rolling down his cheeks when Ayasegawa walked up to him and slowly traced the three parallel lines of his facial scars with his calloused fingertips. "Hisagi Shuuhei, who will sacrifice everything to help others, but doesn't know how to take care of himself." And then the purple eyes were locked onto his again, and Shuuhei's knees buckled as a wave of compassion rolled over him. He felt thin arms wrap around his shoulders, and gratefully hid his face in the sheet of soft black hair. He was crying convulsively now, but he knew that here, in the circle of these arms, he was safe to do so; here, he could let go of his adult strength and allow the anguish which had so often ripped through his heart as a child to flow freely - and right now, this was all he asked for.

Tomorrow he would go back to the insurmountable task of changing the world, but tonight he would just cry his helpless frustration away.

xx The End xx


	3. Invisible

**Title**: Invisible  
**Rating**: K  
**Genres**: Hurt/Comfort, budding friendship  
**This story contains**: ... wangst :P ?  
**Characters**: Ayasegawa Yumichika, Hisagi Shuuhei, mentions of the rest of the gang  
Word count: 692

**Summary**: Deprived of his voice, Yumichika feels invisible, but Shuuhei is good at seeing what nobody else notices.

**A/N**: This was written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo challenge on LJ. The prompt was "temporary loss of voice".

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach nor its characters which all belong to Kubo Tite, and I am making no money from writing this fic.

**Invisible**

Yumichika often disliked being so small in a Division of big, large brutes, but today he especially hated it as he listened to his taller friends chat back and forth over the bar table - and right over his head. Usually he could comfort his insecure ego with the knowledge that a single witty and well-placed remark would be enough to bring the attention on to him if he so wished, but today he had no such crutch at his disposal, since his stupid vocal chords had chosen to get inflamed over a ridiculous cold virus. Even though the healers had soothed the irritation, his voice was still not back; at best he sounded like a dying toad, and at worst he was mute - or was it the other way around?

He could not even laugh at Renji's silly jokes, or engage into one of his habitual philosophical verbal matches with Kira-fukutaichou; he was stuck sitting here, listening passively and waiting helplessly for the evening to end. When Matsumoto asked what new game they should all play and nobody even heard his proposal, he felt like an invisible wall was steadily building between him and everybody else, isolating him from the people around him, friends and foes alike. He might not be the sociable type to begin with, but this forced solitude was painful nonetheless.

He knew it was ugly self-pity which made him act, but he could not resist: he slipped out of the bar instead of returning to the table after going to the toilet. He had not eaten anything yet, and he had not drunk much, so Ikkaku would be able to cover for him; Yumichika would pay him back in the morning. In the meantime, since it did not matter to any of _them_ whether he was there or not, he might as well go and get drunk on his own, or something.

He was listlessly walking down another Rukongai street when he felt a somewhat familiar reiatsu approaching him from behind. Frowning, he turned around, and sure enough, there was the tall, lanky figure of Hisagi Shuuhei sharply silhouetted on top of a row of houses against the clear summer night sky. Incredulous, Yumichika watched as the lieutenant elegantly jumped off the roof and lightly landed right next to him.

For a long, uncomfortable moment, they just stared at each other's feet. Yumichika was unable to speak, and Hisagi did not seem to know what to say. Eventually, the lieutenant scratched his head and began awkwardly, "I, er, noticed you were gone." Yumichika's head snapped back up as a painful flicker of hope burnt its way deep into his heart. Hisagi had noticed? Something very warm washed over the bubble of self-pity roiling in Yumichika's stomach as he looked into the lieutenant's embarrassed face. Someone had noticed, after all; and they had cared, too - cared enough to come after him...

"Wa''a go eat?" It was a silly response, and Yumichika knew it, but right now it was the only thing that felt right; Hisagi had come after him, and Yumichika did not want the lieutenant to go away just yet. He wanted to be seen just a little while longer. Still, Yumichika's voice had come out as bad as it possibly could, and he scowled as Hisagi's eyes widened. Noticed or not, the lieutenant would get punched if he dared laugh... But Hisagi only smiled - a nice, relieved smile - and nodded.

"Sure, I haven't had anything yet."

Yumichika indicated the street in front of them with one hand. "You 'oose. You order," he croaked. And then he smiled in spite of himself as this time Hisagi did laugh while extending an arm over Yumichika's shoulders and squeezing and leading him away.

"Yeah, I think that might be a good idea. I have a feeling I'll be doing most of the conversation tonight, huh?" Yumichika punched him not so lightly in the ribs, but this only caused the wicked grin on the lieutenant's face to widen - and Yumichika smiled himself stupid and felt all warm inside as gratitude washed over him.

_Thank you for noticing, Hisagi-san._

xx The End xx


	4. Misery Loves Company

**Title**: Misery Loves Company  
**Author**: Del March  
**Rating**: PG  
**Genres**: Hurt/Comfort, budding friendship, slight crack  
**This story contains**: slight fever-induced OOCness  
**Characters**: Ayasegawa Yumichika, Hisagi Shuuhei, mentions of the rest of the gang  
Word count: 521

**Summary**: Being sick sucks. Being alone and sick sucks even more. Luckily, one of these problems can be solved.

**A/N**: This was written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo challenge on LJ. The prompt was "fever/delirium".

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach nor its characters which all belong to Kubo Tite, and I am making no money from writing this fic. 

**Misery Loves Company**

Yumichika felt utterly miserable as Ikkaku nearly ran away from the Fourth Division with a quick wave of his hand over his shoulder, and a hurried explanation. "Sorry, mate, don't wanna catch it too. See ya when yer better!" And that was it. Yumichika was all alone in Fourth, with a back that was killing him no matter which posture he adopted, and a head that felt like it had been stuffed with heavy cotton, and a body which could not decide whether it was too cold or too hot. His life sucked.

Well, strictly speaking, he was not exactly alone. In fact, he was not alone at all; the Fourth Division was crammed full of people suffering from the same epidemic fever which had caught him. But none of these patients were friends of his, so as far as he was concerned, he was alone. He knew a few of his subordinates had to be somewhere around, but the last thing he wanted was for them to see him in such a pitiful state. He had a hard enough time maintaining the respect they owed him as it was.

He knew it was very uncharitable to wish such a misery on anyone else, but he could not help but yearn for the presence of Ikkaku, or Renji, or Iba-san, or Matsumoto - or anyone he liked well enough. Why had they all escaped the stupid virus, but he had to fall for it? This was not fair! A bit desperately, he trailed his blurry gaze across the crowded triage hall, hoping against hope for a familiar face to stand out somehow...

He blinked, and then squinted; a well-known set of scars and tattoos was slowly making its way in his general direction. He tried to stand up, but his wobbly legs refused to hold. He tried to call, but his raw throat rebelled in agony. He could only watch as Hisagi Shuuhei walked, zombie-like, through the crowd. If eyes could shoot beams, then Yumichika's would have been drilling holes in Hisagi's face.

His heart beat painfully in his tight chest when feverish, tired-looking green eyes glanced his way and Hisagi stopped in his tracks. Please, please let the lieutenant come to him! Yumichika did not want to be alone... A small smile stretched his cracked lips when Hisagi veered and shuffled towards him.

"Mov'er." Clearly, Hisagi could no more speak than Yumichika did, but Yumichika was only too happy to slide against the wall so the lieutenant could flop next to him. And then, because he was too tired to care about appearances or pretenses or anything, Yumichika laid his head on the bony shoulder next to him, and closed his eyes.

He smiled as he felt a blanket being spread over them both, before a nose and a cheek parked themselves in his hair. His back was still killing him, his throat was still on fire, his head was heavier than ever, and being so close to another body only increased his hot flashes - but at least he was not alone any more as he drifted off to an uneasy, delirious sleep.

xx The End xx


End file.
